The Road is Long

Tell me numbers
mixed with riddles,
while I sip depression
upon this drifting tumbleweed.

I've grown tired of cracked highways,
smelling deisal and rude verbal greetings;
but I do it for her, nothing I won't do for my Bird.

There are so many judges in this world
losing compassion for the fallen, my arms ache from cradling all the tears, there are times my spine cracks from verbal beatings and critizisam;

But the world would fall silent if it was their child.

Never beat down a human being who struggles, you may not agree with the demise but it's not your burden; just listen and hold their verbal echoes-

and always remember, if a broken winged Bird squawks, there is a Momma nearby to fight for her.